


The Magic Touch

by kageillusionz



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) RPF
Genre: Alternative Universe - Harry Potter, First Kiss, Hogwarts Express, M/M, Magic, Shy babies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-09
Updated: 2013-12-09
Packaged: 2018-01-04 04:46:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1076703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kageillusionz/pseuds/kageillusionz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael and James return to Hogwarts after a long summer; neither of them could stop thinking about their little kiss at the end of last year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Magic Touch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pripple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pripple/gifts).



> Thank you so much to my betas, Fricorg and Treacle! You two are the best!

"Could you do me a favour?" James McAvoy asked aloud as he walked into the carriage reserved for Gryffindor's 5th Year Prefects on the Hogwarts Express.

His fellow female Gryffindor Prefect, a lovely lady by the name of Rose, put her book down and peered up at him, her brunette eyebrow arched upwards, and said, "Depends on the favour, I suppose; especially if it has to do with your crush on _that_ Hufflepuff." ' _That_ Hufflepuff' was in reference to Michael Fassbender, now a 7th year, that James had somehow developed a crush on ever since he received extra Herbology tutoring lessons from him; apparently James was so rubbish at it that it required Professor Sprout's best student on the case.

And then it had been love at first sight, apparently.

James quickly closed the carriage door and threw himself into the chair opposite her. He fidgeted: biting down on his lips and played with his thumb, a sign that Rose was either going to get something juicy or not. It was difficult to tell when James would often troll his fiends, and in a metaphorical sense and less of a physically morphing sense (how terrifying that would have been, she thought and shuddered; she was still in awe over Harry Potter and his friends).

"I need to know if he felt anything about the kiss—"

Now, that definitely got her attention.

"You tosser!" Rose exclaimed, throwing her book at him in jest. The pages of the book flew open, forming a mouth made of ink and paper. James quickly reached for his wand in his robes, muttering the right secret password and the correct swish-and-flick motion to tame the book before it mauled his face off via paper cuts. She continued, "You didn't tell me anything about that at all over summer."

James felt his cheeks flare up, stuttering with embarrassment, "Could you just—" There was a vague hand wave to go with it.

Rose smirked, knowing precisely what he was going to say. "Let me guess, you want me to go find your paramour and invite him back here so you can have your secret romance."

"Yes...?" James blinked, not entirely sure what he signed up for but it sounded mostly accurate to his ears. He was still rather worked up about actually meeting Michael face-to-face again. He had been hoping for a letter all summer, but it never came. Disappointment crushed him for a week before James finally pushed it out of his mind and spent most of it working on Quidditch manoeuvres with his sister (who was a smashing talented Beater, if you asked James).

"Right. I'll go find him and then do my tours of the carriages slowly. But I want details — real details, none of your wishy washy cop-out details — when I come back." And then she flounced off, brunette hair in motion, to go make sure none of the first years had lost any of their pets and find one Michael Fassbender for her friend.

The things she did to live vicariously through James.

* * *

Michael was a tall boy, skinny, with limbs that decided to grow faster than the rest of him. He doesn't have many friends, nor was he the brightest wizard of his class (except for when it came to Herbology and, on some occasions, Potions), but he got enough grades in his OWLS to get by. Of course, now that he was in his 7th year, there were the NEWTS to consider.

If he were to work with dragons in Romania and Germany, to become a dragonologist really, he would need to at least pass all of his classes this year. All around him, friends were animatedly catching up with one another. Now that the You-Know-Who thing had been tidied up, the wizarding community was doing their utmost with recovery and Michael wanted to see the world and do what he could. Maybe spend some time at the family-run Twisted Spoon Tavern back in Killarney.

But he was going to have to buckle down and work harder this year if he wanted to at least get some work experience with the infamous Charlie Weasley.

So Michael read his book quietly in one of the carriages, sharing magnanimously with some of his year-mates who had gotten used to his quiet, broodiness.

The door of the carriage opened and in stepped a brunette. Michael looked up from his book (Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profits; 'A fun guide to excellent party gifts!', the blurb advertised) and took in the rest of the details: a Gryffindor, and a Prefect at that, judging from the badge that proudly sat upon her robes. Michael knew enough failing Herbology students to know that she isn't one of them.

"Hey. You're Michael, right? Michael Fassbender?"

He blinked in surprise. "Yes?"

"James McAvoy is looking for you." The name made Michael freeze momentarily. "He's in the Prefect carriage right now with something to say to you. Something about the Herbology homework you set him?" She raised her eyebrow at him. This witch was clearly a very clever liar, and she must know something that Michael didn't.

He took the opening for what it was.

"Right. I'll be back in a tick, gentlemen." Michael stood up, brushing off the cat-calls and wolf whistles, and quickly closed the carriage door behind him shut.

"My name's Rose, by the way," she said now that there was relative privacy in the train corridor. They shook hands. "I'm sure I don't need to tell you which carriage it is you're looking for since you've actually seen James before. Close up, from what I heard."

The reminder made Michael sweat a little nervously. He'd spent all summer thinking about it, the kiss that is, and also trying not to think about it, the fact that James was maybe a little bit interested in him. James was so young, with eyes of blue sapphires and lips of red rubies; and the courage of the lion that Gryffindors all apparently possessed. How was he meant to resist such a combination in the first place, let alone with the knowledge of what James tasted like?

"Yeah. I'll just be going now." He didn't need to have the awkward friend conversation now. He didn't even know if there would ever be a chance for that to occur, and whirled around, ignoring to the best of his abilities the cheeky little wave that Rose gave him.

He shouldered his way towards the Prefect carriages, his mind traitorously reminding him of every moment he had shared with James right up until that moment. Most of it had been actually Herbology related and spoke of hours spent in the library surrounded by reference books of various subjects. Although Michael was terrifyingly good at Herbology, he wasn't doing so great with the rest of his subjects. The entirety of his sixth year (James' fourth) had consisted of late nights spent studying furiously and futilely, fuelled by rations supplied by the House Elves, and sharing one Hogsmeade weekend together when all of Michael's friends decided to ditch him at the Three Broomsticks after James had walked in alone; it had seemed like a good idea at the time to invite James to sit with them. Michael just never realised that they would find common ground outside of their studies (James was an avid fan of both Zonko's Joke Shop and Weasley's Wizard Wheezes; a fact that Michael exploited when he ended up purchasing a few items from both last year for Christmas for James).

And all too soon, Michael found himself standing outside of the Gryffindor Prefects' carriage, staring at James who appeared to be battling with a book with his fists, his wand seemingly abandoned next to his foot on the floor. Michael quickly stepped in with his own wand out. The 5th year assigned reading for Charms was known to be a bit flighty, and often one had to say the word in a certain accent before it would flop down and actually resume its bookish form; one often had to tickle the end paper during reading to keep it that way before it became the terror once more.

"Uh. Thanks for that," James said, sweeping his hair out of his face from where the book had attacked him earlier and mussed it all up. "I could have handled that myself."

"Because you were, you know, doing so well," Michael replied with an easy arch of his eyebrow. "A simple 'Thank You' would have been fine."

James muttered his thanks underneath his breath, and then cleared his throat awkwardly. "I don't really have all that time before Rose comes back, so I'm just going to say that I'm sorry for the kiss, and it was awfully rude of me to just surprise you like that when we don't really know one another all that well. And I totally understand if you don't want to reciprocate or pursue anything since you're two years older than me and you've probably got someone else in mind and—"

Michael pressed a finger against James' lips before any more word vomit could happen.

"How did you get this notion that I wasn't interested?"

"Well, you didn't say anything to me all summer...?" James replied in a hushed whisper, his lips brushing against Michael's finger.

His answer startled a bark of laughter out of Michael. "I would have had you given me your address. You, sort of, forgot that part when you ran away."

James screwed up his face and an oddly endearing expression. "I did not run away! My sister-" James made a vague hand gesture, which could have meant anything. Michael looked forward to knowing precisely what every eyebrow quirk, every lip twitch and hand gesture meant.

"Excuses, McAvoy," Michael said with a grin as he stalked closer. There were butterflies doing the dancing thing in his stomach, and they sort of gave him courage. "I'm very interested if you still are."

"Oh." It was a soft, breathy little sound, almost inaudible had Michael been further away. "That's a good thing then, right? Because I’m still very much interested in this."

"Yeah. I, sort of, think so."

And then it was as if the very air around them froze in time. Michael leaned closer, his arms resting on the upholstery of the Hogwarts Express until their noses brushed like a greeting hello. Their lips were quick to receive the memo and followed suit.

Somewhere on the Hogwarts Express, Rose was punching the air victoriously and shrieked victoriously as if she just _knew_ , scaring a small group of first years that sat within her immediate vicinity. They were such jumpy wee things.


End file.
